Tracie Peterson Read Free

accomplishments.
    If just once she would have come to see the boys , Ashley thought sadly. Just once. Just to see what they looked like . . . if they favored her. If only Rachelle would have taken time away from the world she’d created for herself in order to partake of the world she’d left behind.
    I could have forgiven her then , Ashley reasoned. If she would have come to me . . . even then . . . I could have forgiven her the lost years.
    Brook, too, was troubled by thoughts of the years she’d spent hoping for some kind of acknowledgment from her mother. Her anxiety had caused her to throw up twice before even getting as far as the church, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be able to keep from running to the rest room to relieve herself before the funeral was completed.
    She hated her nervous stomach. Hated that she felt light-headed and faint anytime something became overly traumatic. Her friends teased her that if living in New York City didn’t keep her in a perpetual state of anxiety, then why should simple things like dating or going home to family cause her to lose her lunch?
    But it wasn’t a simple thing to return home. Mattie was too perceptive and Ashley could read her like a book. Deirdre, Erica, and Connie were less capable of knowing her innermost thoughts, but they weren’t averse to trying to figure them out. Privacy was a luxury in a large family.
    Flexing her fingers, Brook laced them together and sat nervously, awaiting the eulogy. She didn’t want to think about the woman in the coffin. She didn’t want the others to know how it hurt her to realize she was never going to know Rachelle Barrister—her own mother.
    It’s just that she never wanted us , Brook thought, staring at an arrangement of apricot roses. She didn’t want a family—she wanted a career. If she had ever shown us the slightest reason to believe she was acting in our best interest instead of her own . . .
    Brook sighed and pushed aside those thoughts, as she did all the other unpleasant feelings . . . feelings of betrayal and frustration and bitterness. Rachelle’s betrayal had fueled Brook’s need for revenge, a need to prove her own beauty and ability. During long flights and endless modeling sessions, when everyone from photographers to agents had made passes at her, Brook’s desire to show up Rachelle kept her motivated.
    She crossed her legs and relaced her fingers. Why did it have to be this way? What purpose was there in the events of her life? Gram had said that all things happened for a reason—that coincidences didn’t exist. If that were true, then how could Brook explain her life—the choices—the mistakes? Without the hope of trying to attract Rachelle’s attention, what purpose did she have in going back to a world she had come to despise?
    As if reading her mind, Ashley leaned over and whispered, “I feel so lost.”
    Brook met her sister’s ashen-faced expression. “Me too.”
    “I think I have been trying to one-up Rachelle. Isn’t that awful? It’s just finally sinking in. I wanted to show her how great I’d turned out—how I did it all without her. And now she’s gone and she probably never knew and furthermore, never cared.”
    “I know how you feel,” Brook whispered back.
    Ashley’s gaze was direct. “Really?”
    “I hate to admit it, but I’m seeing a side of myself that I have ignored for a long, long time. And I fear I might find myself more devastated over Rachelle’s death than I ever expected to be.”
    “I was just thinking that. I would never, ever have expected it.”
    “Never,” Brook muttered, shaking her head. “We might as well have never existed as far as Rachelle was concerned, yet here she is in the middle of our lives, having a control we vowed shewould never have.”
    Ashley’s voice fell silent and Brook caught a rustling sound behind her. Turning to look, she couldn’t help being stunned to meet the sober expression of Harry Jensen. He gave her